


watch the world go by

by gracecavendish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, cross country train ride au, eurostar oh yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracecavendish/pseuds/gracecavendish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“As I said, it’s nice to be open with someone so quickly, sorry, I mean, I don’t want to be forward but-”<br/>“It just feels okay to be."</p><p>Jemma Simmons meets a kind, friendly and maybe just slightly handsome stranger on the train from one city to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch the world go by

Gare du Nord station in the early morning light held a certain elegance. Something that did not go unnoticed by the amber eyed woman when she made her way to the appropriate platform for the Eurostar train, before standing under the shelter provided and feeling the sting of the cool air against her cheeks. She’d arrived early, knowing the crowd would be large and therefore the likelihood of her grabbing a window seat would be minuscule if she didn’t board the train promptly. Shivering, she pulled her coat tighter against her body in order to retain some of her body heat, next to her a small child coughed into the surrounding fog whilst clutching onto his mother’s hand. A sinking feeling filled her stomach, as excited as she was to be going home, she couldn’t help but feel lonely at the long journey ahead she’d have to go at alone. 

Jemma lowered her glasses and squinted, looking amongst the far away mist to spot the train in the distance heading towards the platform. She straightened up and tightened her grip on the suitcase handle, angling her chin towards the incoming vehicle. Tugging her navy beanie further down across her ears, Jemma bustled onto the expansive carriage, moving quickly before reaching the plush red seat. She smiled as she slipped into the empty four seater booth, placing her suitcase at her feet and removing her heavy coat. Finally settled, Jemma pulled out her textbook on cell signal transduction, opening up to her previous point when a panting voice caught her attention.

“Pardon, sorry, sorry.” A curly haired man with a green jacket was making his way down the carriage, pulling along what seemed to be a heavy duffel bag as he went. She watched as he made his way over towards her, clearly spotting the empty to seat opposite where she was sitting. He noticed her lingering gaze and she looked away quickly, staring intently at the words on the page but not reading any at all.

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. Puis-je m'asseoir ici?” His French accent was awful, emphasising the wrong syllables and drawing out his consonants in a funny way. Still, she appreciated his attempt at civility. 

“Yes feel free,” she replied with a smile, an expression mirroring hers appeared on his face.

“English then! That does simplify things, and thank you.” She nodded in agreement,

“Yes I suppose it does, and you’re very welcome.” 

“Oh so actually English?” He asked, she let out a small laugh, 

“Yes, and actually Scottish I presume?” He replied enthusiastically, sliding into the seat opposite her by the window.  

“Yep, Glasgow to be specific.” 

“Sheffield.” He gave a short nod in understanding, 

“Four months in Paris and my french is still awful, as you probably realised,” he said, placing his duffel bag beside him and pulling out a black notebook, placing it across his knees.

“It’s okay, it can be hard to get the hang of a new language, especially once past your-”

“Critical period,” he finished for her, she gave him a shy smile.

“Exactly.” He looked down towards her lap to see the text book that was resting there, 

“Cell signal transduction,” he read, leaning over slightly, “Biochemistry I presume?” 

“Yes, you too?” He shook his head, 

“Engineering,” he replied, holding up the notebook of what she presumed was blue prints. 

“Where are you studying?” She asked, leaning back into the seat. 

“Cambridge, I’m here on exchange, you?” 

“Me too!” She exclaimed, straightening up slightly, “End of Semester means end of exchange for me.” 

“Same, I’m sad to be going but-”

“It’ll be nice to be back home?” He grinned, 

“Exactly.” A moment of silence passed between before Jemma held out her hand, 

“I’m Jemma, Jemma Simmons.” 

“Fitz, I mean, my name’s actually Leopold, Leo, but uh everyone calls me Fitz.” She laughed at his nervous introduction as he shook her hand firmly, 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Fitz.” 

“Likewise,” he replied cheerily, pulling back and folding his hands in his lap. Jemma sighed lightly, pressing her shoulder on the frosted glass of the train’s window. Carefully, she traced her name out in the corner closest to her, condensation dripping down as she allowed the letters to form. She looked up to see Fitz watching her closely, however his gaze wasn’t intrusive, simply curious and warm. Jemma found herself smiling absentmindedly when she noticed. 

“So are you staying in London?” She asked, 

“For a few days, one of my old school friends lives there so I’m supposed to be seeing him before I head home. Are you?” Jemma nodded, 

“For a bit, my sister goes to school there so I thought I would pay her a visit,” she said. Fitz opened his mouth to speak again when the train lurched forward and begun to gather speed, they both took a moment to gaze out the glass and observe the city slowly starting to fly away from them, the memories and hard work of the months gone by rushed passed and blurred along with the buildings the train passes by. 

“Do you have any siblings?” Jemma inquired awhile later, breaking them both out of the temporary reverie they both were in since they left the city, Fitz shook his head,  
“No, just me and my mum,” he told her with a small smile. Jemma tried not to gasp, growing up in the picture perfect household has caused her to flinch at the idea of anything else.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pry,” she insisted, voice having risen slightly. Fitz shrugged, 

“No, it’s fine really, it’s always been that way, I’ve…” he broke off for a moment, “It’s not like I’ve known anything else.” Jemma didn’t really know why, considering he was relatively a stranger to her, but she had the strange sense to comfort him in that moment, to reassure him. Leaning forward she placed her hand over his where it sat in his lap, 

“Thanks for being so honest,” she said, eyes looking directly into his face, fingers brushing his wrist lightly. He simpered, staring down at where her fingers lay across his hand. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been so personal with a relative stranger,” he said with a grin, she pulled her hand back, cheeks slightly pink.

“As I said, it’s nice to be open with someone so quickly, sorry, I mean, I don’t want to be forward but-”

“It just feels okay to be,” Fitz finished, Jemma beamed at him, a blinding smile that disarmed the man sitting opposite her temporarily. 

“Yes, it really does,” she replied as she traced her finger along the edge of her seat. “So, since we’re being so honest, what’s in the notebook?” Jemma asked, gesturing the black sketchbook on his knees. Carefully, he handed it to her, 

“See for yourself,” he mumbled, looking down at the book, unwilling to meet her gaze. Jemma arched an eyebrow in curiosity, looking down at what he’d given her and as she opened the cover and begun to flick through the pages, only to find it wasn’t blueprints at all. 

They were sketches.

Drawings, of old Parisian buildings, a fountain she recognised to be from the Luxembourg Gardens, blurry faces walking amongst the busy Christmas markets. 

“It’s just a hobby, they’re not that great but it’s something for me to do in my spare time,” Fitz said quickly, breaking the silence between them. Jemma ran her finger along the lines of ink stretched across the pages, enthralled by the small piece of time he’d been able to capture.

“They’re, wow, you’re _really_ good,” she managed, unable to spit out a sentence that sounded anything but incredibly corny. Fitz’s cheeks seemed to go a little pink, heat rising up to his ears.

“I mean, they’re just silly things, nothing’s that refined-”

“No Fitz really,” she said, cutting him off, “they’re wonderful, it’s like looking into a handmade photograph.” Fitz is unable to contain his smile at her compliment, knees bouncing lightly and fingers tapping across his knees.  

“Thanks I’ve, I’ve never really shown them to anyone before,” he murmured sheepishly, worried that he might be over sharing, or expecting to much of her but,

Jemma looked up at him with nothing but awe.

“Well I’m, very glad to be seeing them,” she said with a bright smile, handing back his work, one that he returned. Fitz leaned back into his seat, resting his arm on the windowsill, and followed her gaze out to the French countryside. He watched as light rain pattered softly against the frosted glass, Jemma’s reflection smiled at him shyly as their eyes made contact, he smiled back in earnest. 

He’d definitely picked a good place to sit. 

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter should be up soon! thanks for reading :)


End file.
